


Sherlock Holmes x Reader

by Imboredsueme



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: F/M, Implied Sexual Content, Just a bit of it..not much
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-19
Updated: 2018-09-18
Packaged: 2018-12-04 08:28:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 20,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11551374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Imboredsueme/pseuds/Imboredsueme
Summary: These are some of my works from Tumblr, you can find me under the same username. Just some Sherlock x reader stuff, Mostly Sherlock, but more characters will be added, hopefully soon. I'm new, as you may tell, and I still have little to no idea how to work Ao3 but I'll get there! Anyway, enjoy ~





	1. Sick - Sherlock x reader

Sick - Sherlock x Reader 

"Y/n." Even from the kitchen Y/n could here Sherlock's grumble of her name from their shared bedroom. She stays still, staring at the open cabinet in front of her, "Yy/nnn." Sighing she walks to the bedroom, bottle of medicine in one hand, spoon in the other. "Yes Sherlock?"

If she can even call him that, what she's staring at is a bundle of sheets that is supposedly her husband. The sheets move about and Sherlock's head pops out, definitely not where I left him, she thinks. "I'm cold." After two days of blatant denial, Sherlock had finally accepted the fact that he had caught a cold, there was a case that somehow required him to jump into a pond. And, here we are, "Well of course you'd feel cold, you're running a fever." Y/n says, walking over to place her hand against his forehead, and the fever seemed to have increased in the past hour. The detective groans and sits up, leaning against the headboard, "Well don't worry, we're gonna break that fever," Y/n says, setting down the spoon so she could crack open the medicine bottle. As she pours the sweet pink liquid onto the spoon, Sherlock tightly closes his mouth and turns his head away, "No, don't do that. Open."

He shakes his head, keeping his mouth and the spoon at a considerable distance. Y/n sighs, here we go again, "Come on Sherlock, it's not that bad." she says, trying to encourage him to open his mouth, but to no avail. He had done this before, the two times he had to take it, he was being an insufferable child. "Sherlock, would you just--" Y/n stops letting out an exasperated groan, staring at the ceiling before looking back at her baby for a husband. "Do you want to get out of this flat and go solve a case or not?"

Sherlock turns to her, and she raises her eyebrows, and he reluctantly opens his mouth, causing the girl to smile. She puts the spoon in his mouth, allowing the medicine to slide off it, and Sherlock pulls a face while swallowing. "There, see. Not that bad." She smiles and he glares at her, "It's strawberry." he complains, "Yes, like you've complained the two times I had you take it. But it's either that or you swallow pills, and we both know how that went last time."

Sherlock groans, covering his head with his sheet, moving away from her, "Sherlock, come on, we have to break that fever."

"Why can't I just stay in bed?"

"Because you won't get better, come on." Y/n takes hold of the sheet that he had expertly wrap around his legs, tugging until he was free of it, leaving Sherlock sprawled out on the mattress, pouting at the ceiling. "Do I have to shower in cold water?"

"Yes." Y/n laughs, taking his hand and gently pulling him up, immediately sensing the man's reluctance to move. "I'll go in with you if that makes you feel better." Sherlock stands, smiling at her suggestion, and she laughs at him, "Of course you'd get up for that,"


	2. Time and Then Some - Vampire!Sherlock x reader |Part one|

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock is a vampire, alone in this world. But he met a girl at a pub, and he's not so alone anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Thank you all, whoever took the time to read this. Feedback will be much appreciated, for it gives a writer motivation. And of course, I need to know if you guys enjoy what you're reading.

Eternity isn't nice. It's cold and lonely and endless. Unless, you decide to take yourself from this world, which at many a time isn't a bad idea. Eternity is a slow progress of time. Whoever said it would be nice to live forever told a lie, and a great one at that. Of course, no one wants to die, because they fear what lies beyond death. They fear the thought of what lies at the end of that tunnel; Heaven or Hell. But no one wants to live forever, because to live forever is to be alone. With nothing more to lose, you just live on and watch.

Watch as everything around you ages and dies, and you, on the other hand, remain a fixed point. You watch as humanity destroys itself, watch them become the very disease they feared so much. Their ignorance becomes their down fall. Humans are petty creatures, they live for themselves, some of them doesn't even know right from wrong, they do what they like, and they keep on living like they've done no wrong. They surrender to drugs and alcohol yet they speak against those who fail to show abstinence. Sometimes, one must become a monster to realize that humanity is gone.

_Alone is what I have, alone protects._

That was something Sherlock Holmes once said, and for years it sang in his head like a mantra.

  
But now, he's not so sure. Alone got boring, and sometimes, he just couldn't stand it. He thought he was slowly slipping away, falling deeper into the deep end of the pool. He never once let it bother him, but now, he's not so sure.

"You should find someone Sherlock,"

"Speak for yourself, Mycroft. I need no one."

There is no one like him, none that he know of anyway. He was, and forever more will be a monster. Sometimes, he wished he'd wake up in his bed, and this would've been nothing more than a horrible dream. That or a sick joke.

But no, everyday, he'd go to sleep and wake up in this never ending reality. When he was human, in the late eighteenth century, he never had a worry. He was a detective, he solved crimes, made a name for himself. He had a life. One that he was living perfectly fine, until he bumped into a strange case.

People were turning up dead all over London, with strange puncture wounds in their necks, drained of their blood. At first, Sherlock thought it was silly, because his brain could only think of rational explanations for these deaths, and for that one moment, he thought irrationally.

  
_Vampires_.

  
Quite silly, isn't it? Well, Sherlock thought it was. And even now, Sherlock wished he never tried to solve that case. Because his irrational thought was right. Vampires were truly the cause. He had never thought it possible, for things like this emerge from fairy tails and urban legends. Things parents use to scare their children.

  
But it was far more than that, and very much real. And Sherlock was so close to solving the case, until he was going home, unaccompanied one November night. He was startled, when the man came out of nowhere, he had expected him to shoot him, anything but tackle him and bleed into his mouth.

  
He could vaguely remember what happened afterwards. Everything was too loud and too bright, and not to mention the blood lust he felt. His brother, Mycroft had found him then, and when Sherlock did wake up, he attacked him. So in truth, he isn't really alone, he just loves to pretend his brother isn't there.

  
But even though he was, Sherlock was alone, and that loneliness creeps up on him ever so often. Taking a tight grip on his mind and soul, with no intention of letting go. It burned a hole, one that ran deep, and sometime Sherlock can't help but wonder why he doesn't pull the plug on himself yet.

But to leave his brother to face eternity alone, doesn't feel right. Especially when it's his fault he's facing it in the first place.

  
So here we are, Sherlock Holmes, a vampire, walking through London. It's five minutes to the hour of ten o' clock, and he wants nothing more than to drink himself silly. There was a pub not far from his current residence on Baker street, he goes there a few times, mostly when his thoughts are too loud. And right now, he needs something to drown them out.

  
Stopping outside the entrance of the pub, Sherlock dusts off the light snow that had settled on his coat before stepping in.  
The inside of the bar was warm, and not as noisy as he thought it would be, not much people littered about, most of them in small groups or by themselves somewhere. Sherlock makes his way over to the bar and sits down.

  
The girl behind the counter smiles at him, "Hi, what can I get you?"

  
She's new, he notices. He's been here quite a few times, and all those times there was always a blue eyed brunette girl. Sherlock is glad she wasn't there though, she talks too much and doesn't know when to take a hint. This girl, as he's observed, was quieter, more to herself than anything. Funny that she's working in a bar where communication is needed.

  
"Whiskey, please,"

  
She gives him a polite smile, turning around to get a glass, and the bottle of whiskey. She places the glass down on the bar counter and pours the amber liquid into it, not after long, leaving Sherlock be. Sherlock watches silently as she attended to the other men there, serving their desired drinks with the tiniest of smiles. He couldn't keep his eyes off of her for some reason, the way she moved was intoxicating, like a brand new drug you can't get enough of.

  
"Take a picture," Her voice was like velvet, cutting through the static in Sherlock's mind. It took a moment for the vampire to realize she was standing right in front of him, leaning against the counter. Sherlock blinks, "Pardon?"

  
The girl chuckles, smirking at him, "Take a picture," she repeats, "it'll last longer."

  
Sherlock clears his throat, taking a drink from the glass in his hand, looking away from her. He hears her chuckle again, "It's okay, you're not the first guy to stare. You get that a lot working behind a counter,"

  
"I didn't mean to, sorry." He apologizes.

  
The girl nods, leaving it there before going back to her work. Sherlock tried his best not to look at her again, not that it mattered if she caught him doing so or not. He was just trying to get rid of that stupid feeling that had settled in the back of his mind, one that for the life of him he just couldn't place. With a sigh, Sherlock finishes off the whiskey, setting the glass down on the polished wooden surface before dropping money as well. Apparently, he has spoiled his good mood, and he no longer felt like drinking, now he just wanted to go home. Sherlock takes one glance at the girl, who was too busy to notice, before leaving.

  
He had surprised himself tonight, though. When he does go to the bar, the only words that come out his mouth is what he wants. The girl behind the counter made him say more than he had intended to. Not that he minded, anyways.

Later, Sherlock was sitting in the silence of his flat, gazing into the fire. He was just thinking, like he does for most of his days, thinking about what he could possibly do for the rest of his long miserable life. And suddenly, Mycroft's words come to mind.

_Find someone._

It's useless isn't it? He is eternal, and she is but a moment. There is nothing to be gained there. Sherlock rubs his face with his hands out of frustration, glaring up at the ceiling. He gets up from the leather chair, walking to the window, watching down at streets below. The skies were filled with dark clouds, looks like it's going to rai–

  
"Bugger off would you!" a voice pulls Sherlock's eyes from the sky, the girl from the bar. She was walking quickly, constantly looking back at the two male figures following her.

"Oh come on, Love. We just wanna have a little chat with ya," It's none of his business, for all he knows, they might actually be friends of hers. But that not being very likely, since their body language speaks of their intent, Sherlock slowly makes his way out his flat. When he got outside, she was just across the street, looking more than irritated.

"I said bugger off." she repeats, and Sherlock watches when she pushes one of the guys who got too close. When said guy grabs her wrist, Sherlock calmly crosses the street over to them.

  
He stops behind the two men, narrowing his eyes at them, "Is there a problem here?" he asks, both men turns, the taller of the two still holding the girl's wrist. "No, mind ya own business." he says before turning back to the girl. Sherlock puts a hand on guy's shoulder, squeezing tightly. Watching as he immediately lets go of the girl's wrist, "I believe the girl wants you to leave her alone. Now _fuck off_ before I break you,"

  
He pulls the man back, his grip on his shoulder tightening enough to break bone. "Woah man, we were just trying to talk to her alright?" The shorter one says, raising both his hands in defense. Sherlock loosens his grip enough for the tall one to shrug out of it, he who turns swiftly, raises his fist and decks Sherlock right to the jaw.

  
Sherlock stares blankly at him, completely unfazed by his action, he punches back, getting a strange satisfaction from the sickening sound of his nose breaking.

  
"And if you or your friend here decide to lay a hand on her ever again, I'll break more than just your nose." He says lowly, "Now go before I change my mind."

  
The two men give him dirty looks before running in the other direction. Sherlock watching them until they were out of sight before turning to face the girl who was now rubbing her sore wrist, "Are you alright?"

  
"Yes, I'm fine. Thank you," she replies, smiling slightly.

  
"How far away from here do you live?"

  
"Oh, a few blocks, it's not far," she lets her hands drop to her sides. And Sherlock weighs his options, he could go back inside and leave her be now and let her walk home alone. But then she might get into trouble again, since she clearly is a walking attraction.

As soon as Sherlock was about to offer to walk with her, the clouds finally decide to open up. The rain was falling heavily, soaking through their clothes. There's nothing good about winter rain, it's freezing, though the cold doesn't bother Sherlock that much anymore, he was human once and he know just how it'll affect her. Especially a girl of her size. And she isn't even wearing a coat, just a thick sweater and jeans.

  
Now he can't leave her to walk in this rain, "This rain isn't going to let up now, you can come up if you like," he offers and the girl nods mutely, both of them crossing the street to get into the warmth of 221B.

  
"So, what's your name?" Sherlock asks once he lets her inside. She stood awkwardly next to the couch, her arms wrapped around herself. "Y/n,"

  
Sherlock then leaves her briefly to get her a towel, and put water on for tea. Grabbing one of the spare towels he had, he couldn't help but wonder why he was doing this in the first place. This girl is of no importance to him, and he isn't any importance to her, he's sure. He takes the towel out to her, before going back to make the tea. "Were they friends of yours?" Sherlock asks, once he was done with making the tea, she sat on the couch now, drying the water from her h/c hair. "No, just some jackasses from the bar. Thanks again, anyway,"

  
"It's no problem,"

  
She sighs, her eyes looking out the window, "It's really pouring isn't," she mutters, "Oh Yeah... what's your name?"

  
"William Holmes," it's not a lie, not a whole one anyway, but he'd rather it this way.

  
"Hmm, you don't look like a William...but it suits you, I suppose." Y/n smiles, resting the towel on her lap to take a sip of the tea.

Sherlock blinks, studying her for a moment, watching the way she got lost in her own world, looking around his flat. "Would you like something to eat?" Sherlock asks, breaking the silence, watching as she shrugged. "Urm, sure. But, you don't have to, I'll just eat when I get home,"

  
"No, it's alright. This rain will take forever to stop," He says, getting up to retrieve his phone from the mantle, calling the nearest pizza place. It might be a bit, because of the rain, but it'll get there none the less.

  
When it did get there, no less than thirty minutes later, Sherlock allowed the girl to eat. Occupying himself with watching the rain, as it finally slowed to a light drizzle. A few moments after, Sherlock walked her out his flat and out to Baker street.

  
"I could walk you home, Y/n," Sherlock offers as they stood on the street, but she shakes her head and declines.

"No, that's alright. You've already done enough," she smiles, "I'll be alright,"

  
Sherlock nods, leaving it there, "Okay then, good night, Y/n,"

"Good night, William. And, thanks again,"


	3. The Red Jumper |Sherlock x reader| Christmas special

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary: Sherlock goes to Greg’s Christmas party and meets his sweet little sister.

Normally, things like this didn’t appeal to the Consulting Detective, not in the slightest. Sherlock would prefer to stay in his flat and do nothing than come to parties. A thing that demands social interaction so that you don’t seem rude. Even in his own home, Sherlock would avoid it.

But Greg invited him and John, and even though he didn’t want to, John insisted because it would’ve been rude if he didn’t go.  
It was a small gathering to celebrate the Christmas Holiday. Molly was there, and Mrs Hudson, Anderson, Donovan and a few faces Sherlock didn’t know.

He stood in a corner of the room, watching everyone, feeling less than inclined to actually join in on the merriment. John was halfway across the room, chatting up one of Greg’s female friends, and Sherlock shakes his head with a silent chuckle. She isn’t in the least interested…. Greg, Molly and Mrs Hudson were chatting and laughing like everyone else, talking about God knows what.

Sherlock’s eyes drifts around the room, taking in all the Christmas-y things hung everywhere, and the carols playing in the background. And he found himself enjoying the peaceful atmosphere.

A ring of the door bell causes Greg to move from his spot next to Molly to go answer it. A moment later he comes back with two women following. The first was short, with shoulder length brown hair and big dark brown eyes, she smiles at everyone, somewhat nervously.

The other came a little ways behind her, one Sherlock immediately recognised as Greg’s younger sister. Sherlock has seen her around the Yard a few times well, and he never understood why she was always so cheerful. She had a good heart, a little too much, he thinks. She’s kind to those who doesn’t really deserve it, she’s always smiling.

“Sorry we’re late,” she apologises smiling as well. “You didn’t miss much, Y/n” Greg says, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

“Blame Clara; she couldn’t find her shoes,”  
The brunette girl turns to look at her with a dimpled smile, “I thought we agreed on blaming the snow…”

  
Y/n chuckles, pulling her jacket off the reveal the over-sized red jumper and dark jeans she had on below. Sherlock raises an eyebrow, studying her form. She hands Greg a large bag that she was carrying, “Well, you made it anyway,”

After the greetings floated around the room, things went back to how they were. Everyone chatting to themselves, not minding anyone else. Sherlock sighs through his nose and checked the watch on his wrist, wondering how soon it would be until he could leave.. and if leaving right this instant would be rude..

“Oh, we brought presents,” Y/n smiles, waving her hand at the bag that Greg was looking at confused. He laughs, “I think we can all agree that we’re too old for presents,” Greg says, propping the full bag in a corner of the room anyway.

“You’re never too old for anything,” the girl quips, smiling. She sits down next to her friend, Clara. Not long later, the group was swapping stories, save Sherlock who just really wanted to go home. Hot chocolate was shared around, but Sherlock passed not feeling up to it. The detective excuses himself, going outside to greet the cold December air. He stops where his coat was hung to pull out the one thing he really needed right now.

  
Once outside, he leans up against the wall next to the door and pulls out a cigarette from the pack in his hand. Looking around at the snow falling and the fairy lights Greg’s hung up, he pats his pockets in search of the lighter he thought he brought with him.

“Those things will kill you, you know.” a voice calls, and Sherlock looks over his shoulder to see Y/n staring at him. She was holding two mugs of hot chocolate in her hands, she smiles handing one to him.

“You smoke too,” he states, scanning her, “On occasion,” she laughs. Sherlock smiles a bit, taking the mug from her while she reaches into the back pocket of her jeans. She pulls out a lighter and hands it to him, Sherlock quirks a brow, “Trying to kill me faster?”

“You’re not that much of a nuisance,”

Sherlock takes the lighter slowly, watching her carefully. He puts the cigarette between his lips and lights it, he takes a pull and gives the lighter back to her. Y/n moves around him, sitting down on the porch bench there.

She places the mug down between her feet, “Didn’t expect to see you though, Sherlock,” she says, leaning back to look up at him properly. Sherlock holds the cigarette between his fingers, tilting his head at her, “Why not?”

  
“You don’t look the type to mingle, especially with Donovan and Anderson there… ”

  
Sherlock chuckles as she fiddled with the sleeve of her red jumper, pulling it over her hands in attempt to keep them warm. Sherlock walks over and takes the spot next to her, “Why are you out here then? You seemed quite the people’s person,”

“Nah, I don’t mingle much. There were too many people in there and I couldn’t go another minute with Anderson undressing me with his eyes.” The girl shudders, picking up her mug to drink from it.

Sherlock shakes his head, taking another pull from the cigarette before offering it to her, she chuckles, taking it from him. She breathes in, pulling the chemicals in before letting them go through her nose.

  
It wasn’t long after, when he found himself enjoying her company. She was just easy to talk to, and Sherlock didn’t find her being around him the least bit annoying. She talked about the weirdest things and Sherlock couldn’t help but find her interesting. They shared the cigarette until it was finished and Sherlock threw the end away.

“So, any plans after this?” he asks, looking at Y/n, “Home, bed.”

“Busy night then,”

Shrugging she laughs, “I guess,” she tugs on her sleeve, “But I’ve got time tomorrow if you do,” she smiles, nudging his arm with hers.

  
“If you’d accompany me for dinner and a drink, then yes. You never know what could come from that…”

  
She looks at him strangely, “You don’t drink, Sherlock.” she says with a laugh. Sherlock scoffs, “You don’t know that,”

  
“You don’t drink.” She repeats, “I drink on occasion,”

  
Y/n laughs and Sherlock laughs with her, shaking his head. “Well, if you can hold a pint to me, then it’s a date,” she winks.

The door to their left opens and Clara pokes her head out, “Oh, there you are, sorry…Greg’s calling. I think the presents got mixed up,” she says, looking at the both of them with a bright smile, “This one’s his though,” she hands Y/n the neatly wrapped present. Y/n gets up and takes it, pushing Clara away when she wiggles her eyebrows suggestively.

“I’ll be right in,”

  
“No, don’t mind your brother, take your time,” She gives Y/n a thumbs up and a mega watt smile before slipping back inside.

  
Y/n sighs and reclaims her spot next to Sherlock, “Here,” she says, pushing the gift his way. His eyebrows draw together as he took it from her gently, a medium sized box wrapped in dark paper. It was light so it was probably some sort of material. He looks up at her, why would she even get him anything?

“Why are you – Stop looking at me like that.” she says, pushing his arm lightly, “You’re looking at me like you’ve never gotten a present before.”

  
“People don’t usually give me things, I don’t usually deserve presents.”

  
Y/n rolls her eyes, “Right now, other people shouldn’t matter. I gave you that, so take it and shut up.”

Sherlock smiles, shaking the box in his hand lightly, “What is it?” he questions looking at her and she shrugs, “I don’t know, Santa didn’t tell me,”

  
Sherlock scoffs and shakes his head, gently opening the present. He moves aside the wrappings carefully, noting how it’s been wrapped with such care. When he gets to the box, he uncovers it to find a black scarf, identical to the one he’s got folded in his coat pocket.

“Don’t just sit there and gawk at it, tell me if you like it or not. I went all over bloody London looking for that.” she laughs.  
Sherlock didn’t know what to say, like he’s said, people doesn’t give him anything. He can’t remember the last time he’s gotten a present, that one Christmas when Molly gave him one, that was a while ago now.

“Thank you,” he offers a smile, leaning over to kiss her cheek, “That’s generous of you,” When he pulls away her cheeks were as red as her jumper.

  
“Would you two quit flirting? Y/n get in here, please?” Greg comes outside, looking a bit irritated but he smiles at her. Y/n rolls her eyes with a laugh, getting up, she pulls Sherlock up by his wrist, “Come on then,”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for stopping by! Hope everyone's having a great December! Love yall!


	4. Fix Me - Sherlock x Reader

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Y/n and her best friend turned boyfriend had just broke up, leaving Sherlock to pick up the pieces.

She had seen it coming, honestly. She had seen it, and still, she had blindly walked on her way, pretending to be non-the-wiser to what was happening right in front of her. Because she thought if she did that, she wouldn't have to confront it, out of sight, out of mind, as they say. 

But it did happen, and eventually, she had to come to terms with that. 

Some people are lucky, having the person who they've known practically all their lives, be their best friend and then eventually, something more. Some people are lucky to say that they've married their best friend, and stay married forever. 

Y/n had known Scott all her life, they were close since they were both knee high to a grasshopper. Her childhood, much to the disappointment of her mother, was all mud and tree climbing, and all the boy stuff.

Most days, it was her going home with a new bruise or cut with a tale to follow. Y/n remembers how frantic her mum was when she came home screaming blue bloody murder because she had fell from Scott's skateboard and broke her left wrist. Her mother had banned her from seeing him, and even though Scott's mum didn't agree, she decided that it was best that they had some time apart then. But a broken wrist didn't stop them, and neither could their parents. 

Then there was middle school, which was a weird time for everyone, when puberty kicked in and she had started to notice her feelings. Which was strange for her, as a child, the thought of being with her best friend in that way was just a big no for her. But they talked, and he said that he had felt the same for quite some time. They never acted upon it until High-school, when things got serious between them and Scott had decided that he didn't like the way the other boys were looking at her and kissed her on the mouth in the middle of the cafeteria. 

And sometimes then, she'd look ahead of herself and she'd see her future, well, she saw what she hoped it would be. At a time then, she thought it was absolute. She thought that they'd grow up together, like they've been doing since forever. They'd go to college, get good jobs, settle down, get married, have kids. And just live. 

But from where she sat on his couch right now, with him looking into her eyes, she didn't see any of that. His grey eyes pleading for her to say something, anything. Truth is, she didn't know what to say. What could she say that wouldn't resolve her to a babbling mess of words and hot tears? 

They had met up for their usual Friday night regime, but after dinner, he wanted to talk. It seemed serious, with the way he said it. He sat her down on the couch, and from his sentence starter 'I'm just going to be straight with you,' Y/n knew she wasn't going to like what she heard. 

 

And of course she didn't. She doesn't think that any girl would like to hear that her boyfriend had fallen for the girl in the apartment next to his. No girl would want to hear that and then hear the words 'I hope we'd still be friends, because I don't think this should change that we are.' 

Fuck.

Of course it would change! Everything would change! 

It was like him asking to forget everything they've done together, everything they've been through, to just take all that, and throw it out a window. 

Y/n had sat there, unblinking for a good while, seemingly staring at Scott, but not really. She felt let down and disappointed, she felt as though all the years they've been together meant nothing. She didn't want to voice her thoughts, because if Scott said anything right now she'd scream. 

“Y/n? Come on, say something.” Scott says, his forehead creased as he stares at her. “Seriously, you're beginning to worry me,”

Y/n blinks once, and then a few times, her eyes focusing on him. “I don't know what you expect me to say, Scott.” her eyes trails from his to stare at the locks of his dirty blond hair that hung gently on his forehead. Trying not to look into his eyes for the comfort that she could spend that one second convincing herself that this was not happening. 

“I'm sorry,” he says at length, watching her carefully. And Y/n could tell he was being cautious. She could tell that he knew that she was a ticking time-bomb and any wrong move could set her off. So he was choosing his words carefully, picking them up and examining them before he let them tumble from his mouth. “I really am, its just we've been together a really long time and I guess...I guess I just fell out of love with you. If that makes sense,” his eyebrows scrunch together with the effort of framing his words. 

Y/n feels tears brim her eyes as she looks down to her hands, which for some reason, were in his. And on her ring finger was the promise ring he gave her back in their last year of college. She was so certain back then that things were going right. Well, back then, they were, everything was going right. “Don't go thinking that our years together doesn't mean anything to me, they do.”

She pulls her hands away, taking a breath, trying to stay calm before she broke down completely. She couldn't believe he was being so casual about this, how can he be okay with doing this? Knowing that it would break her? Then again, Y/n has no idea just how long he was planning to do this, how long he pondered over different ways that it would go so that he could react accordingly. That thought alone makes Y/n feel sick, knowing that he waited until now because he wanted to do it in person. It was better, at least, she could commend him on it. He could have simply done it over the phone and got it over with. 

Y/n stands up, distancing herself from her now ex-boyfriend. Scott stayed put, and Y/n could see he was contemplating on if he should say something more. She looks down at her left hand, and with her right, she pulls the ring off, setting it down gently on the wooden coffee table. 

She smiles sadly, thinking through her words before she spoke them. She takes a breath, looking down at her feet for a moment, “Yeah, it makes sense. I just wished you had told me sooner,” she murmurs, trying to keep her expression and her voice as even as possible. She didn't want to give away how she really felt, he didn't need to see that. She forces a smile, casting her gaze on anything but him. “We are friends by the way, that's never going to change. But right now, I just need to get home.”

“Uh, yeah. Of course, sure...” Scott says, his grey eyes on the ring laying on the table. He sighs through his nose, the sound coming out harsh and he looked irritated, but not with Y/n. He gets up from his couch, taking a hesitant step forward, “Y/n look, I'm really sorry about this, trust me. It hurts to do it, too. But I just couldn't do it anymore, I couldn't lay back and let you love me when I couldn't return it like I should. I couldn't string you along like that,”

“I understand,” Y/n nods, moving to grab her red coat and her hand bag, she fishes the spare key he gave her out of her bag and puts it next to the ring. “Thanks for dinner, good night.”

Y/n left Scott standing in the middle of his living room, looking half ready to stop her from leaving. But that didn't matter, not right now. Y/n took her time going down the stairs, taking deep breaths, finding it hard to simply breathe with emotion closing around her throat. She wanted to be angry. She wanted to be angry at him for doing this to her, but she couldn't bring herself to be. She couldn't do it, she wanted to scream and kick and throw things, be she couldn't because she saw it coming. She could go as far to say she allowed it to happen, why blame Scott when she could blame herself? 

She swallows, the lump in her throat moving painfully as she stepped out onto the concrete of the side walk. She didn't bother to hail a cab, not wanting to sit too still for too long, and figure it would be better to walk home. It wasn't that far, but she knew that by the time she got home, her feet would be aching and she'd be too tired to be bothered with her thoughts and tonight's events. 

The walk to Baker street was filled with her trying to be strong and not cry. To avoid getting sympathetic looks from passers-by or attracting attention to herself. She kept her head down mostly, staring at her feet and the cracks in the concrete as she walked and she prayed to God that she didn't bump into anyone. 

Once she reached 221B, Y/n stood outside the door for a while, taking deep, calming breaths. She felt worse than how she felt back at Scott's apartment. Her stomach was churning and she felt like she could throw up. And she thought it was probably for the best. This way, there was a lesser chance of either John or Sherlock asking questions. 

She opens the door, and steps inside. She takes off her coat, placing it on the coat rack before heading up the stairs to greet the boys, like she would always do before she'd go to 221 C. 

She didn't want to stray from her usual routine and give them room to speculate. If she goes straight to her flat, she'd probably look like hell by morning and then she'd definitely get interrogated. Making a mental note to smile, she knocks on the door to the boys' flat and waited. After being told to enter, she just pokes her head in. 

John was sitting on the couch, typing away on his computer, and Sherlock had his arm chair turned to face the telly. He showed no signs of acknowledging her presence as he was too immersed in whatever he was watching so intently. And Y/n hoped it remained that way. 

“Oh Y/n, you're back early,” John says with a raise of his eyebrows, she had to be careful, what John couldn't see, Sherlock will most definitely will. But John wasn't stupid.“You alright?”

The worry in John's voice was evident as he shifted on the couch to get a better look at her. She probably looked horrible, with the thoughts running through her mind, there was no doubt her emotions filtered across her face. She nods, “Yeah, just feeling a bit ill, but I just popped in to say good night,”

Sherlock's head turns, catching Y/n's eye, she gives him a little wave. John narrows his eyes at her, and Y/n smiles, hoping that it looked at least as half as convincing as she thought. “Well, night then,”

“Night, Y/n,” John says, and the look in his eyes hadn't change, he knew that something was wrong. 

Y/n slips away, walking back down the stairs quietly. She goes into her flat, and shut the door behind her. Suddenly feeling incredibly drained, she drops unceremoniously onto the small couch against the wall. Unbeknownst to the conversation being shared between her boys upstairs. 

 

John sat, staring at his computer screen, something was wrong with Y/n. She did look ill, but it wasn't that, John knew there was something more to it. Sherlock was sitting in his arm chair, and every few moments he'd mutter something about the show he was watching. But John needed his attention for just a bit.

“Sherlock...did Y/n seem a little, I don't know...off to you?” John asks, scratching at his cheek.   
Sherlock raises an eyebrow, turning away from the telly to face him. His head poked up over the back of the chair as he turned, watching him. 

“I suppose?” Sherlock frowns, “Did she?”

John's eyebrows lowers as he watched his flatmate. He'd expected him to notice at first glance. Sherlock shrugs and turns back to the telly. 

John sighs, “Sherlock. She's upset, something happened,”

“Well of course she's upset. That boyfriend of hers, never liked him...” Sherlock says not looking at him, causing John to raise an eyebrow.

He sighs, “Sherlock, go talk to her,” It's not that John didn't want to go, he did. It's just he'd rather Sherlock did it, because he's noticed a few things lately. The was Sherlock would act when Y/n was around, he was still rude, as he's always been. But he's nicer. And the looks he would give her, John couldn't help but notice. The lingering touches, and how he'd slip back into his cold exterior when she leaves. 

“Why can't you do it?” Sherlock grumbles, rolling his eyes. “I'm busy,”

John sighs, “Just do it, I think she needs someone to talk to,” he says, “You know, you're the one who--”

“--Fine,” Sherlock sighs harshly, getting up with reluctance. “But if she's crying I'm coming back.”

 

Y/n sat quietly on her couch, staring blankly at the opposing wall. For some reason, she couldn't bring herself to cry, she wanted to, but her emotions wouldn't come to the surface. She thinks it's probably because her body was still going through the process of breaking down the events. Or maybe it was the bottle of vodka in her hand. 

She knew by now, past the fifth swing from the bottle, she was completely sloshed. She looks at the bottle and shakes her head, what the hell is she doing? She's always told herself that alcohol wasn't the answer, but it would always be a momentary comfort. She would regret this by morning, her decision to drink herself silly. But honestly, she needed this. She couldn't help but wonder what Scott was doing right now, maybe he's chatting up that neighbour of his, telling her that he's finally done, he finally got free of her. Or maybe he's sat thinking about what he did, regretting it, possibly. Y/n would rather put her money on the first one. Seeing that he was pretty content in letting her leave. 

Y/n chuckles to herself, a humourless sound as she licks the inside of her wrist before taking a swing of the vodka. After the burn subsided, she tilts her head back and squeezes the juice from the wedge of lemon into her mouth. 

A knock on her door makes her turn and regret it immediately afterwards. The room swarmed before her eyes and she gets up with a groan and she stumbles to the door, never losing her grip on the glass bottle. She stops behind it, but didn't make a move to open it to who ever may be on the other side. 

“Go away! I don't wanna talk to you!” she shouts, kicking the door.

The person on the other side was silent and Y/n was happy to get back to wallowing in her pitiful despair alone. Until the person knocked again. 

“Y/n, open the door, please.” The muffled voice of Sherlock Holmes was no surprise to her, she had expected him to find his way down eventually. But she didn't want to see him, she didn't want to see anyone for that matter. She could go the night without hearing what ever Sherlock had to say, honestly. 

“Y/n,” his voice calls again, and then Y/n was made very aware that she didn't lock her door when Sherlock opens it and steps in. When he closed the door behind him and looked at her, he frowned. 

“Go away,” Y/n lifts her finger and points at him, stepping back to keep her distance, half ready to hurl the bottle at him if that's what it took for him to leave. “I don't want to talk to you,” she slurs, turning away from him. She takes big steps to her couch before slumping down into it, groaning to find that Sherlock was still there watching her. 

“What do you want then? Can't you just leave me alone?”

“I don't think John would appreciate you drinking yourself to death. I won't be surprised if you put yourself into an alcohol induced coma.” 

Y/n rolls her eyes, lifting the liquid sin to her mouth again, taking a large drink as Sherlock stepped to her. 

“Y/n, I think you've had enough now.” he says after a moment, pulling the bottle from her weak grip. 

Y/n glares at the man standing over her as he placed the bottle far from her reach. “No I haven't, I'm not done drowning my heartache.” she grumbles, stretching her hand to reach the bottle that was too far. She sees Sherlock's eyebrows raise and he moves to sit down next to her on the couch. He does so stiffly, Y/n notices, and he rubs his palms against the material of his pajama bottoms. He stares at her for a moment, but not long enough for Y/n to become uncomfortable. 

“Something happened with Scott, correct?” Sherlock asks asks at length, watching her carefully. 

Y/n chuckles, “Is it that obvious?” she asks sarcastically, rolling her eyes. She presses her cool fingers against her temples with a sigh. “Well, he finally got me off his back after all these bloody years.” she laughs, shaking her head, catching the look Sherlock was giving her. “Stop looking at me like that. It's not like you to pity anyone, Sherlock.” 

Sherlock blinks and look away, opening his mouth to say something but he decided against it. And Y/n took that as her cue to continue speaking. 

“I saw it coming though, just didn't bother to do anything about it. I thought that just maybe, I wouldn't have to.” she says, “Who knows what he was doing behind my back, waiting for the right moment to break the ties.” She never wanted to admit it, because admitting it made it real and now that it's real, Y/n had a hard time keeping the burn of the alcohol from making it's way back up her throat. She felt horrible, and now that she's actually accepted the fact that it is over made hot tears welled in her eyes. 

She takes a breath, trying to laugh off her pain. She wipes at her now hot cheeks, wiping away the tears that started to flow uncontrollably. 

“There's no shame in crying when you're hurt, Y/n.” Sherlock says softly as Y/n takes in his words and lets out a sob. She wasn't ashamed to cry in front of Sherlock, she just felt incredibly stupid. Y/n feels Sherlock's awkward movements as he slowly wraps an arm around her shaking shoulders. 

It only took a moment before his arms were fully around her and she was crying onto his shoulder. Sherlock couldn't help the anger that rose in his chest, red hot and boiling. At the moment, he could do nothing more than curse Scott's name for making Y/n hurt like this. 

“It's okay,” Sherlock whispers, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head. As selfish as it seemed, Sherlock was actually happy about her break up. And of course it makes him feel bad to think that way, because he shouldn't be.   
“Some things are for the best, Y/n,” Sherlock says gently. 

When Y/n had finally started calming down, she sniffles and nods against his shoulder. “Yeah, maybe...” She slumps against his side, feeling drained. 

“I think it's time you get to bed,” Sherlock says, removing his arm from around her to stand up. He gently pulls her to her feet, he knows she's sobered up a little after her cry but he didn't trust her enough to get to her bedroom without somehow hurting herself. Turning her around, Sherlock directs her to her room, guiding her by her shoulders. 

They enter into the darkness of her small bedroom and Sherlock leads her to her bed and sits her down before kneeling to pull her shoes off. 

“Sherlock?” Y/n calls softly, watching as he placed her sneakers under her bed. His blue eyes found hers, and she smiles nervously. “Can you stay? At least until I fall asleep?” 

She wouldn't have asked, she just didn't want to be alone in a room that seemed too big to her. With her thoughts still running amuck in her head. She would probably just stay awake all night, or cry herself to sleep, either way, she wouldn't get much of it. When he simply stares at her without saying a word, Y/n casts her eyes to her hands in her lap. “You don't have to,” she starts. 

“Okay,” Sherlock says, smiling a bit. 

“What?” Y/n asks, even though she heard him quite clearly. 

“I'll stay,” he clarifies with a short nod of his head, “For tonight, okay?”

Y/n manages a smile, nodding slightly before getting under the covers. 

Sherlock walks around her bed, bouncing awkwardly on his bare feet for a moment before deciding to climb in next to her. Sherlock takes a deep breath when his leg touched hers.

The two stay looking at the ceiling for a moment before Y/n turns to look at him. Would it be wrong to say she still loved Scott? Despite what happened. She suppose that she's been loving him for so long she doesn't know how to stop. But sooner or later, she is going to get over it, and perhaps, she'd start seeing what was right in front of her the whole time. 

She stares at Sherlock, who hadn't taken his eyes off the ceiling and smiles. If he hadn't come down, she probably would have drunk herself into a coma. She couldn't help but be grateful for having Sherlock as a friend. 

“Is this okay?” Sherlock asks softly and Y/n nods, moving closer to him so that she could press a kiss against his jaw. Sherlock looked as though he wanted to say something then, but he decided against it. 

“Thank you,” Y/n says, and bravely, she snuggles up to him, he tensed up a but, but Y/n was surprised at how quickly he relaxed. His chin resting on her head and his hand came down to rest gently on her hip. Y/n just needed the comfort, right now more than anything. 

“Anytime,” he mutters with a small smile before pressing a kiss to her hair, “Are you alright,then?” 

Y/n smiles, “I will be,”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for being away for so long, Darlings! Hope you enjoyed this one, don't be afraid to leave a comment! ❤❤


	5. The Devil came to 221b

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The devil has returned. Yes, Irene Adler is back in London, in Sherlock's flat. And Y/n L/n is nit taking any of this flirting with her man nonsense.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOOO, Hey guys! Updating again for this 'ol thing :) Enjoy!

Y/n L/n and Sherlock Holmes has been together for the better half of a year. But of course, no one knows, Sherlock had asked to keep it all hushed, for his reasons. And Y/n never minded, it made the moments when they were alone even more special. She’s had her doubts, on many occasions, but Sherlock had always reassured her. And even though he could be quite a prick, he had his head in the right place.

But now, Y/n wished she had made it known, she knows she should have, but she wanted Sherlock to feel comfortable. She didn’t want to push him out of his norm, or push him away for that matter.

_But would it have made a difference?_

Sherlock is a handsome guy, nothing could beat those dark curls, high cheekbones and eyes you can’t really tell the color of. He was bound to turn heads, especially the head of this devil.

Y/n had been around when Irene Adler was a threat. A threat to British Royalty and her potential love life. She and Sherlock hadn’t been together at the time, but boy did she hate her. With her pretty face and perfect body and her great hair. She was sure that after that dilemma Sherlock wouldn’t have bothered to look at her once. But then she was no longer an issue, or so Y/n thought.

Y/n and Sherlock had come back from a lovely evening; dinner and a walk by the Thames. They had talked about finally letting everyone know and joking about the possible reactions of their friends. But a perfect evening turned to a nightmare when they found the Devil herself in their flat. Dressed in a form fitting black dress, dark hair falling elegantly over her exposed right shoulder, a smile on her blood red lips.

“Hello, Sherlock,”

Y/n felt her stomach churn at the sound of her sultry voice, dripping with liquid seduction. Sherlock seemed surprised, at seeing her there, as she was supposed to be out of the country and out of their hairs for good. Y/n takes off her coat, eyeing Irene coldly. Sherlock was the first to speak, walking towards the woman, “What are you doing here?” he asks, Y/n couldn’t see his expression from where she stood a few steps behind him and she couldn’t guess it.

“Now is that anyway to treat an old friend?” Irene asks, taking a step towards him as well.

  
“What are you doing back in England?” Sherlock asks, unmoving and Y/n watches the scene with uncertainty. She couldn’t help but feel that burning sensation in her chest, as she smiled up her boyfriend. One that made her clench her fist and grit her teeth and made her want to throw Irene down the stairs. “You never answered my texts,” Y/n watched as Irene walked around so that she could clearly see Sherlock’s face.

“I had no reason to,” Even as Sherlock said this, Y/n saw something in Sherlock’s eyes, the way he was looking at her. Like he was seeing her for the first time all over again.

Y/n closes her eyes, and takes a breath.

“So, now that I’m here. Let’s have dinner,” Y/n eyes opens at that and she looks between the both of them, the burning in her chest only escalating. “And, perhaps, pick up where we left off.” She says suggestively, she had her hand on Sherlock’s arm, and Sherlock… she could tell he was thinking.

He wouldn’t _dare_ consider that offer.

Y/n clears her throat loudly, reminding them both that she is actually there. Trying to remind Sherlock that she is there. She was staring at Irene though, her e/c eyes narrowed dangerously.

  
“First of all, you’re not welcomed here.” Y/n says coldly, “And second, no. He would not like to go to dinner. I don’t appreciate you trying to work your charm on my boyfriend. Now if you don’t mind,” Y/n steps away from the open door, pointing out, “Get out."

  
Y/n feels Irene’s blue eyes scan her form, and the woman laughs, looking back at Sherlock. "Oh, I like her, and I could see why you do, too. She’s feisty,” she smiles, “Can I keep her?”

“Get. Out.” Y/n seethes, watching as Irene chuckles, clicking her tongue against her teeth. “I’d keep a close eye on this one, Sherlock.” Those were her last words before she walks out the door, and Y/n closes it harshly behind her. She closes her eyes and takes a few breaths.

“Y/n,” she hears Sherlock call, without looking at him, she walks through the kitchen, towards their shared bedroom.

  
“Y/n.” Sherlock had a grip on her arm now, she refused to turn and look at him. She didn’t want him to see the tears that had already fallen. “Look at me, please?”

  
Y/n turns around and looks up at him, “Why are you crying?”

“You were actually considering her offer,” Y/n says, her teeth worrying at her bottom lip. Sherlock’s eyebrows furrow in confusion, “You know I… ”

“–No, no. Don’t say that. Because if you say you weren’t, then you’d be lying to me.” Y/n sighs, closing her eyes for a brief moment, “It took you very long to notice,”

“Notice what?”

“ _Me_.” Y/n smiles sadly, “And it only took a matter of seconds for you to notice Irene Adler when she walked into a room wearing absolutely nothing. I could lose you just as fast,” Y/n whispers the last part, afraid that if she spoke any louder, her greatest fear would come to life and she just be left there.

“You silly girl,” Sherlock says with a chuckle, “She means nothing to me,”

Y/n feels Sherlock’s thumbs wipe at her damp cheeks, “You think I’d take one look at her and I’d leave you,” Y/n nods and Sherlock chuckles again, wrapping his arms around her, pulling her to him. “Then who would I have to get jealous when another woman even thinks to look my way?”

  
“I wasn’t jealous.” Y/n states, smiling because she was, and there’s no point in hiding it when Sherlock already knows. Like she’s mentioned, she’s had her doubts, and right now, doubt is clouding her mind. But, Sherlock had always reassured her, and she doesn’t think that Irene Adler would ever be a problem.

“Yes you were,” Sherlock says seriously, looking down at her, “And I don’t want you to worry your pretty little mind over silly things such as Irene Adler.”

  
Y/n sniffles a bit as Sherlock tilts her head upwards and kisses her sweetly, “Okay?”

 “Okay,”


	6. Time and Then Some |Part 2|

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A day in Y/n's life..she meets William again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's not my best, this one..

“Are you sure you’re going to be okay? I mean, if you need anything just call and I’ll come right back,” Y/n smiles as her sister fussed about, making wild hand gestures.

Y/n knows Jeanette has been working her butt off since God knows when, and now she finally gets a day off and Y/n made it her duty to make sure that she spends it right. She had agreed to watch her son for the day, allowing Jeanette to spend some quality time with her boyfriend, Seth.

  
“No, J, go ahead. You deserve time off, Ethan and I will be fine.” Jeanette looked ready to drop everything even though Y/n reassured her, again.

  
“You’re a God sent, Y/n. I’ll see you later,”

Jeanette says, kissing her cheek before slipping away. Y/n quietly closes the door behind her. Y/n heads back to the living room where Ethan was currently watching the telly, giggling at every silly thing that happens. “So Bud, what do you wanna do today hmm? We’ve got the whole day to ourselves.” Y/n says, plopping down on the couch next to the seven year old.

Ethan looks away from the telly, turning to face Y/n, his grey eyes innocent and curious. “Can we get ice cream?” Y/n laughs, knowing that would be the first thing he would ask for.

“Well, your mom left a shopping list, so we could get it later,” she smiles and Ethan nods, apparently satisfied with her answer.

  
Soon, Y/n had made him breakfast; eggs and toast. She had always enjoyed spending time with her nephew, he doesn’t happen often, but Y/n tries to be there as much as she can for him and her sister.

There was another reason why she agreed to watch Ethan, so she could perhaps get William Holmes out of her head. Since she left his flat three nights ago, she couldn’t stop thinking about him. She had expected him to come to the bar the night after, but he didn’t show, and now Y/n is stuck trying to figure what to tell him if she ever does see him again.

She thought at first, that it was only because he saved her from a lot of trouble that night is why he keeps popping up in her mind. Like a knight in shinning amour kind of thing. But she only realised it wasn’t that when she had sliced her finger cutting up mushrooms when she was making Ethan’s breakfast. He was like an annoying stain you just can’t get out of a tee shirt, no matter how many times you’ve washed it.

  
She’s only thought about a guy this much once, and that was in the ninth grade. A very long time ago, when childish crushes were a thing. The thought of her having a crush is just… no. That’s it. She doesn’t even know the guy to begin with.

  
But like she said, it’s that knight in shinning amour thing.

  
Later on in the day, Y/n decided to take Ethan out for lunch, going to a dinner some streets away from her sister’s flat. Then they went to the grocery to pick up the few things Jeanette had put on the list, plus, Ethan’s ice-cream.

  
Y/n held her nephew’s hand while looking through the list in her other hand. There wasn’t much things to get, and Jeanette had left enough money to get everything there, sans the ice-cream which Y/n’ll pay for.

  
Ethan was busy pushing the shopping cart with his free hand, staying close to Y/n like she’s asked him to. “Okay, I’m watching you, go get your ice-cream,"the dark haired boy skips over to the dairy section, Y/n keeping an eye on him from where she stood. As he came back with the mediumsized tub of what seemed to be cherry-vanilla, Y/n looks through the list again.

  
"Okay…Milk, cheese, ketchup….” Y/n checks the cart to make sure she has the things she crossed off, she takes the ice-cream from Ethan and places it the cart. “Okayy..still need–”

  
“Not getting into trouble are we?” Y/n had almost screamed bloody murder, but that baritone she’d recognise anywhere. She turns around, a small smile in her lips, “No, just getting some things,”

  
He still looked the same, (not like she expected him to change over the course of a few days) a mop of dark curls, though he was wearing a pair of dark shades, it was hard not to forget the colour of his eyes. His eyes are what caught her off guard at first, such a strange mix of colours; blue, green and flecks of gold. His eyes were captivating, eyes she noticed looked tired, almost ready to give up. It’s like when you want to sleep, but no matter how hard you try, sleep just evades you and you remain fighting that never ending war. How can eyes so young look so old?

  
He was dressed similarly to how he was that night, expect over his dark three piece suit he donned a long Belstaff coat, a navy blue scarf, his hands covered by black leather gloves.

  
When she realised she was staring, Y/n blushes and looks away. William smiles down at her, his eyes going to Ethan at her side who was staring up, looking between the both of them. “Is he yours?”

  
“Hmm? Oh, no. This is my nephew, Ethan.”  
She watched when he smiled then, he looked almost relieved. Which was strange to her, yes he looked like a guy who enjoyed his solitude. But why would children be a problem?

Why the hell does that even matter to you?!

“Hi,” Ethan says quietly, and William smiles again, “Hello, little one,” Ethan is usually a shy kid, so the fact that he even bothered to greet William surprised Y/n.

  
“Anyway, it was mice to see you again, Y/n. But I’m afraid, I cannot linger. I’ll be seeing you,” He says, giving her a small nod before turning around and leaving, the coat he was wearing swished behind him.

Leave it to me, to like the strange ones.

Wait… wait what? Did he said he’d be seeing me?

“Aunt Y/n?” Ethan calls softly from under the covers. It was late, and about time that Ethan gets to bed, Jeanette had called, saying she’d home in a few minutes. “Yes baby?”

  
He peeks out at her from under his sky blue comforter, “That man from the grocery…” Y/n raises an eyebrow, not knowing where the child was going with this. She sits on the chair at his bedside, “What about him?”

  
“Mommy says that you can tell when you like somebody by the way you look at ‘em…and mommy looks at Seth like that all the time. The way you looked at him earlier….” Caleb says, Y/n chuckles, brushing back his dark hair. “You need to sleep,” she says smiling, leaning over to kiss his forehead. “Goodnight, sweetie,”

It was late when Jeanette returned home, Y/n was already dressed for work when he sister came in. “Oh, I made you late didn’t I?”

Jeanette frowns, and Y/n shakes her head, getting up to grab her things. “No, I still have an hour to get there,” she smiles. Jeanette puts her bag down, plopping down on the couch next to Y/n.

“So, you had fun?” Y/n asks and Jeanette grins stretching out her left hand and wiggling her fingers, causing Y/n to look down.

  
“Oh my God,” Y/n laughs, and Jeanette nods, “I know!” the ring on her finger was simple, a single silver band with a white diamond.

  
“Oh my God! Congratulations!” Y/n says hugging her sister who laughs and hugs her back. “You bitch, I am so happy for you, I could cry.” Y/n says, not unkindly.

  
Not long after a small celebration between the two sisters, Y/n recalls her day with Caleb. “Wait, so you saw Mr creepy again,”

  
“He’s not creepy. The guy literally saved my ass,” Y/n says, shaking her head. Jeanette laughs, “And he said he’d be seeing you? I honestly have to meet this guy,”

  
“Ah haha, no. You’ll scare him off,”  
Y/n says laughing before looking at the watch on her wrist, “Shit, J, I gotta go. I’ll text you later,”

“Stay safe,”

 

He came in early tonight, making the same order like he did last. Not at all surprising Y/n. He was quiet most of the time he was there, and Y/n was top busy attempt to make small talk with him. But when everything had settled, Y/n smiled at him and leaned against the counter. “Hey,” she greets with a small smile and he chuckles deeply, “Hello,”

  
“…So, I had to wait an entire three days to see you?” Y/n muses and Sherlock watches her curiously before smiling, “I would have came sooner, but I had some business to take care of,” he says, tapping the glass, silently she refills it. “You’re taking care of yourself, I hope.” He says, watching her over the rim of the glass as he lifts it to his mouth. Y/n smiles, tilting her head, “I’d ask you the same but you’re in a bar,” she chuckles, “but I am,”

  
William chuckles, smirking at her, “Everyone has a vice,”

 

It was about two am when Y/n got off, ready to go home and collapse in her bed, she smiles to herself as she locks up the bar. William left a bit around ten, and Y/n was quite surprised to find him waiting outside.

  
“Oh shit–William, you scared me,” Y/n says, her hand over her rapid beating heart.

  
“Sorry,” he apologizes, walking over to her, “I just thought I’d walk you home,”

  
“That’s very kind of you, thanks.”

  
It wasn’t a very long walk, from the bar to where Y/n lived. The walk there was quiet, while Y/n had tried to make conversation, William didn’t seem in a talking mood. At least, that’s what it seemed like to her, he’s just so darn mysterious. When he had taken a silver hip flask from the pocket of his coat and drunk from it, Y/n raised an eyebrow but didn’t question.

  
She hummed thoughtfully, causing William to look over at her, “What?”

  
“Nothing,” Y/n shakes her head, and he raises an eyebrow now, “Okay.. It’s just that… people drink when they’ve got something on their minds. Something they’d rather forget. You drink a lot, so I was only wondering,” she says quietly and William pockets the flask, sighing.

“There are some things I try to forget, I suppose. But alcohol can only do so much, the forgetfulness is only temporary, eventually, they just come right back.”

  
It was quiet again after that, but not an awkward silence, it was quite calming. Just the two of them enjoying each other’s company. “Well, this is me.” Y/n says when they had reached her flat, she turns and smiles up at him. “Thanks again, for walking with me,”

  
“Of course,” William smiles taking her hand in his gloved one, Y/n feels a blush creep up her neck when he brushes his lips gently on her knuckles. “I’ll be seeing you,”

  
Y/n couldn’t help but feel giddy as she went up to her flat, and she couldn’t help but wonder where this was all going to lead.


	7. Time and then some |Part three|

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock has a dream and goes to see Mycroft. An old "friend" comes to visit 221b.

Sherlock sighs, smiling, the light of the sun shinning down through the trees. Clear skies, cool breeze –perfect day. England wasn’t much for days like these, they’re quite rare. So are days where he could be…. ordinary. Because here he was, sitting in a park, under the shade of an old oak tree, the air clean and crisp. He was enjoying the things around him, the things he rarely had the time to.

  
A soft laugh from next to him pulls Sherlock from his daze, “Perfect day isn’t it?” Molly sat next to him, Sherlock nods smiling gently at the girl as she fiddled with the dark blue blanket below them. “Indeed,”

  
“You know… ” Molly begins, tucking a lock of brown hair behind her ear, “I didn’t think I’d get you to come, you’re always so busy.”

  
Sherlock chuckles, “I am never too busy for you, Molly,” he says fondly. Raising a hand to cup her cheek, leaning over to press a gentle kiss to her lips. When Sherlock breaks away from the kiss, and he opens his eyes, Molly was gone and he was no longer sitting under an oak tree.

It was dark and cold, _very cold_.

“Molly?” he calls out to the darkness around him, “Molly!” and then heard it, quiet sobs echoing out. Sherlock quickly follows the sound slowing to a stop as the sounds get clear, sitting on the ground not to far from him was a woman. But he knew it wasn’t Molly, it couldn’t be her. He knew this girl, but from where, his subconscious mind could not recall.

  
“…Y/n?” he calls, finally recognizing her, taking a small step forward, “Y/n.”

  
The air around him becomes still and eerie quiet as the girl looks up. Then he notices, the dress she was wearing was soaked crimson. “Are you going to kill me too?” she asks, slowly getting up. “What?”

  
“You killed her, and you’re going to kill me too.”

  
“No–Y/n. You must understand. I couldn’t control it – it was an accident.” Sherlock says quickly, reaching out to her, but she pulls away, a look of fear and disgust masking her features. “Stay away from me. Murderer! _Monster!_ ” she shouts turning and running away from him. The words echoing around him loudly, Sherlock tightly closes his eyes.

_No, no, No!_

Sherlock opens his eyes, sighing loudly as the ceiling of his bedroom greets him. He looks over at the curtains that were drawn closed, the sun was setting now. It was a dream, nothing more. He had always dreamt of things he’s done in the past, of his friends and sometimes a life he could’ve had. Some of them were usually pleasant, though reoccurring, Sherlock never gets tired of them, it was his escape from his own hell.

  
But this dream was new, the last bit of it, Y/n was never apart of his dreams until now. To see her in that manner, to hear the words he never wanted to hear come from her, it’s frightening. It was frightening and Sherlock didn’t know why.

  
He had never meant for it to happen, with Molly, it just did. There was a time, he tried to forget what he had became, tried to ignore his new nature. Ignore his only means of survival, the thirst had became too much then. He thought that maybe he could’ve stopped himself, prevent it all from happening, but he couldn’t stop, and he drunk too much.

  
He tries to forget it sometimes, what he did. But when you’ve lived for this long, you realize there’s no forgetting anything. Sherlock watches as the light of the sun disappear from behind his dark curtains before getting up from his bed.

 

It’s about time he paid his brother a visit

 

“Hello brother mine, to whom do I owe the pleasure?” Mycroft sat behind his desk of his home office, Sherlock was sitting in the chair opposite him. “A dream of mine,”

  
He hasn’t been to his brother’s in a very long while, preferring to keep his distance. Unlike Sherlock, Mycroft more embraced his new life style, and some what continued living human, he had worked his way up the secret service and secured his place as Government official and head of M-16. Though he does all his work from home and no one questions his methods.

  
Mycroft raises an eyebrow, placing his folded hands on the dark brown desk, “It took a dream for you to come see me?” he questions, sounding amused.

  
“Mycroft,”

  
The older Holmes sighs, suddenly serious, “Which was it this time? The same one as last?”

  
Sherlock sighs, no longer sure if he wanted to tell him anymore. Questions will surely arise, “Yes, and at the same time, no.”

Mycroft leans back in his chair, watching his brother carefully, “How so?”

  
Sherlock takes a breath, going silent for a moment, “There was a girl, not Molly, a different girl.” he begins unsurely, tapping his fingers against his knee. The dream still troubled him, he found it very hard to place at the back of his mind, her words hurt him.

Even though it was only his mind putting image to his fears. Mycroft narrows his eyes a little, his eyebrows furrowing, “Who is she?”  
“No one you should concern yourself with, Mycroft.” Sherlock says, setting his jaw.

Realisation dawns upon the eldest Holmes features, of course. Sherlock avoided his gaze completely, “Her humanity is what you care for Sherlock, not her. Humanity’s innocence. Something you do not posses,”

“Enough, Mycroft. Please.” Sherlock sighs, he was wrong, he cares for this girl, though he has yet still to find out why that is. And, even if it’s to come to that (Sherlock doubts it ever will), It’s one thing, to take her. It’s completely another to take her from her life, her family.

To take her humanity, it is something he can’t do, he will not do it. Because, Sherlock knows what it’s like for your life to be forcefully ripped away from you, to have to carry on and live like this. He had friends too, a girl he once loved as well. But that was ages ago.

“You can’t be with her Sherlock, you know this. Not unless –”

“ _No_ , Mycroft, that is out of the question.”

Perhaps he was just lonely, it tends to happen most days. Maybe it’s only that, the reason why she was on his mind so much, the reason why he craved her presence. Sherlock runs a hand through his hair, closing his eyes for a moment, deciding that a change of subject would do them both some good. “By the way, Mycroft –”

  
“–Yes, yes. I know, you’ve ran out. It’s by far the only reason you ever come to see me,”  
Sherlock raises an eyebrow, scoffing at his brother, “Now that’s not entirely true, we did talk,” Mycroft purses his lips, rolling his eyes as he got up to leave the room.

Leaving Sherlock to his thoughts, which, by the way was a scrambled mess. He haven’t much to think about, he tried to think about the first part of his dream from last night, the part that involved Molly. Sometimes he thought he would’ve forgotten her, what she looked like or her behaviour. But his mind never allows it, he was forever plagued by the memory of her, sweet, Molly Hooper.

“Sherlock.”

Sherlock blinks, looking up at his brother who was standing next to him, holding a medium sized cooler. “Sorry,” he stands, taking the cooler from his brother’s fingers.

“There’s enough for two weeks,” Mycroft informs, watching Sherlock carefully. Sherlock thanks his brother quietly, turning to leave, “Oh, Sherlock,” Mycroft calls, causing Sherlock to look over his shoulder, an eyebrow raised.

“You know our rules, you can’t see her,”

 

::

 

“My Dearest Sherlock, what’s the occasion?” Sherlock closes his eyes for a moment, and sighs. Sitting in his chair was a man he once knew as his enemy, for the centuries that passed the two have gotten over their senseless feud.

  
How is it that Moriarty is here you may wonder, lets just stay that he stuck his nose in a place where it most definitely didn’t belong. They however, found a way to co-exist, now, they were nothing more than acquaintances, but Sherlock likes to think of him like a headache.

“You do realize you’re in my flat, I should be asking you what the occasion is,” Sherlock says, moving to close the door behind him, “What do you want, Jim?”

  
“A little Bird whistled in my ear, Sherlock. It said that you found yourself a pet, she’s quite pretty,”

“Shut up, Moriarty. Leave her out.” Jim smiles, taking a sip from a champagne glass filled with blood. Sherlock narrows his eyes, knowing that Jim had helped himself to his stock. “You know Sherlock, she is human, she’ll fade away like dust.”

_“Get out.”_ Sherlock seethes, pointing to the door. Moriarty sighs, shaking his head slowly before finishing his glass and getting up.

“Sherlock, Sherlock, Sherlock.” Moriarty tsks, “Eventually, you’ll kill her. People like us, Sherlock. We don’t get the happy endings, we don’t get the ordinary things. There’s only one way this can continue, you know.”

“No. _Get out._ ”


	8. Time and then some |Part Four|

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Despite everyone's warnings..Sherlock still goes to see Y/n.

Sherlock made his way out of his flat, a few nights after the visit of his unwanted guest. He planned on going to the pub again, to hell with Mycroft and his rules. He could care less about them right now. He thought long and hard about what he was going to do with himself and the problem that Y/n was causing. Because she was causing a problem, and an awfully big one.   
Mycroft was saying one thing, Moriarty was saying the same. And Sherlock’s mind and heart were at war with each other. He honestly had no idea what to do, he was spinning like a top in mud. He could give into it, he could take her, but she has a family, people that loves her. He can’t just take that away.   
Sherlock sighs walking in the direction of the pub, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his belstaff coat. He puffs out a breath, shaking his head – what was he thinking? – _This is ridiculous Sherlock._ **What the hell makes you think this is going to work?**

_I am eternal and she is but a moment._ **She is human, Sherlock, nothing more than _dust_ between your fingers. _You will never be ready._**

His thoughts had almost made him turn around and go back to his flat. But he was determined to continue.

Despite being away for so long, Y/n looked at beautiful as ever. Standing behind the bar counter, dressed in a dark long sleeved tee and jeans, smiling at him. A smile he’s come to love, he’s noticed. Sherlock smiles back, taking his usual seat in front of her. Y/n did the usual: setting out a glass and the bottle of whiskey. “Well well well, Mr Holmes. Surprised to see you here.” she says, not unkindly, a smile on her lips still. Sherlock chuckles, watching carefully as she poured a small amount of whiskey into the clear glass. “You said that I drank a lot, so I checked out a bit for you.” He says, smiling more when she rolls her eyes at him. Sherlock takes up the glass, trying his best to ignore that little feeling that shot trough him when her hand brushed against his.

“I’ve only been busy, if you’re so worried for me.”

“I have no reason to worry over you, Will. You’re a big boy, you can take care of yourself just fine,” she winks.   
Sherlock smiles and looks away from her, taking a drink from the glass. She turns away when Sherlock heard the door behind him open. Y/n smiles as always, but this smile was different, Sherlock saw something in her eyes then. 

“Eric, hey.” Y/n greets sweetly as someone sat next to Sherlock. Sherlock looks to his right, the guy was tall, not as tall as he, but enough. He runs a hand through his short blond hair, a look of pure adoration nestled in his green eyes as he looked at Y/n. “Hey, Y/n,”   
Sherlock looks away, downing the drink, and he knew it wasn’t the alcohol that was burning his chest right now. He refills the glass, pouring more than he’d usually. Y/n had learnt to just leave the bottle in his reach, because he drinks quite a lot. Sherlock rolls his eyes as they laugh at something together, just the thought of this happening right next to him made him sick.

**I told you.**

A soft growl leaves Sherlock’s lips as he refills the glass, again going higher than the last portion. “Dude, slow down a bit there. You won’t be able to see straight when you’re pissed off your face.”

Ah, so Eric finally acknowledged him then.

Sherlock couldn’t help but think the man’s name with hatred. He turns to look at him, scanning his form. Sherlock scoffs, turning back back to his drink, not the type he thought Y/n would go for.

That’s because you thought that you were her type.   
Shut. Up.

“I will be fine.” Sherlock says dismissively, quickly downing the whiskey and pouring himself yet another. From the corner of his eye, he say Y/n raise her eyebrows at him. He knows she heard something in his voice then. “William, you alright?” she questions with a frown, Sherlock closes his eyes for a moment. Drinking from the glass again, slowly now. “I think your friend there has had too much to drink, eh Y/n?” He hears Eric chuckle, and at that moment Sherlock felt like jumping off a building and just stop existing. He sighs, pulling money from his pocket and drops it before Y/n could tell him It’s on the house like last time.   
He downs the glass and looks at Y/n, “Nice seeing you, Y/n. Goodnight.” He says nothing more, not even a Goodbye to Eric, he just left.   
But of course he had to see the hurt that flashed in Y/n’s eyes. And he hates to know it was his doing. But frankly, he could care less.

He feels stupid. To actually have been expecting something out of this. Something between them, it was silly and naive.

He stayed outside though, because he always walked her home. But what if _he’s_ walking her home? Sherlock sighs, leaning against a wall, shaking his head as if to rid it of his thoughts. Not an hour later, Y/n stepped out of the pub, jacket on and she was wrapping her scarf around her neck. Eric was behind her, smiling at something. He says something to Y/n and she laughs, the sweet sound of it reaching Sherlock’s ears from where he stood.   
He was about to be on his way, but then they said something to each other and and hugged before going off in opposite directions.   
Sherlock raised an eyebrow, walking slowly to Y/n. She smiles when she saw him, a tad bit wary, he noticed. “Hey you.” she greets, “You okay?”

Sherlock smiles, _define okay, Y/n. Then I’ll let you know._

“Perfectly fine, my Dear.” He says, falling in step with her, “I thought your friend would be with you,” Y/n laughs a little, shaking her head, “Nah, his mum isn’t quite well these days. Doctor’s said that Aunt Yvette mightn’t make it past Christmas.”

_Wait…. aunt?_

“He’s your cousin?”

“Yeah. Poor Guy, said he needed a break and someone to talk to. So I told him to drop b— Wait, why?”   
Y/n looks up at him studying him before bursting out laughing, “No, No way. Will,”

Now he feels like an absolute idiot. Leave it to him to speculate things.

“That’s why you started acting like someone spat in your cheerios. You were jealous.” Y/n says, laughing some. Sherlock remains quiet, watching her. She stops laughing and an unreadable emotion crosses her features, she turns to look at him again, “William.. ”   
Sherlock keeps walking, leaving Y/n trying to keep up with his long strides. “Hey. Hey, wait.” she calls, grabbing onto his arm. He stops, looking down at her and he smiles lightly, “Now you know,” 

“No, I think I’ve known for quite some time now, ” Y/n smiles, and Sherlock searched her eyes, for what, he didn’t know. Rejection, maybe. But he found nothing of the sort there, just a certain shyness in the e/c pools of her eyes. “I care for you way more than I should,” Sherlock says, raising his hand to brush her cheek gently with his fingers. Y/n smiles softly, wrapping her fingers around his wrist, “Then show me,” 

Sherlock’s cupid's bow lips pull into a smirk as she wrap his hand around the back of her neck, caressing the soft hairs there. He leans in, pressing but a gentle kiss to her pink lips, sighing into it. It’s been a very long while since he’s kissed anyone, he’s not even sure if he did it correctly, but just the way her lips moved in time with his. 

That didn’t matter anymore.

Everything beyond that happened so quickly. Because suddenly, they were in his flat and he was pushing her against the wall. His mouth hadn’t left hers for a fraction of a moment. 

Sherlock rests his forehead against hers when he had pulled away once, she laughs softly, brushing his nose with her own. Her fingers were in his hair, her legs around his waist, and it seemed to Sherlock that time had stopped completely.

This may have topped his list of the stupidest thing he’s ever done. His thoughts were conflicted, screaming at him to stop. One part of him dared him to carry on, to never let this girl go.

With that thought in mind, Sherlock only kissed her harder. His hand against her lower back, pressing her body more against his own. His tongue ghosted over her bottom lip, asking permission, to which she complies. Sherlock dives into the heat of her mouth, tasting her. He felt dizzy, drunk on ecstasy, it was intoxicating. Her scent, the way her hands were everywhere like she was starved of his touch. His lips trailed along her jaw, kissing her neck, teeth gently meeting skin as he nipped at her soft flesh. His hand tightens on her hip when a breathless moan left her, right next to his ear.   
He pulls away to kiss her flushed lip again, his teeth bite into her bottom lip, not hard enough to break skin but just enough to drive her wild. Sherlock pulls away, resting his forehead against hers yet again, they were both breathing heavily. Y/n’s eyes were dark, lust blown, and oh how Sherlock loved that he caused that. But he needs to think. He can’t do this, it’ll get too far and he knows it, he ghosts a finger along her jaw, his eyes searching hers, “Y/n… I can’t.”   
“Why not?” she asks quietly, kissing along his jaw to nibble on her ear lobe, and Sherlock feels his breath catch in his throat. He honestly had no idea how he had enough breath to let out a low growl then. He was trying so hard to to just take her against the wall, make her scream, make her his. “I know you want this just as much as I do,” she whispers into his ear, Sherlock closes his eyes then.

_To to hell with it._


	9. Fix Me |Part two|

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Y/n is still trying her best to be over Scott and John wants to help Sherlock out a bit by sending them both out for lunch. But sometimes a semi-good day can turn to shit.

“How is she?” John asks lowly, peeking over his shoulder to watch Y/n who was sat in Sherlock’s chair facing the telly. She donned one of John’s old sweaters, her feet tucked under herself as she munched on popcorn. Oblivious to their conversation.

Sherlock sighs, pulling his gaze away from the drop of blood he was looking at under the microscope to look at his best friend. “You’ve asked that question every day since last week, John. My answer remains the same: she’s fine.” He says quietly, his blue eyes glancing at her for a moment. And John didn’t miss the way his eyes lingered on her form. “She’s said so every time I’ve asked, so I can only assume that she is as she says.”

Neither she or Sherlock spoke of what happened that night last week, and John never asked. John rolls his eyes, throwing up his hands, “Don’t you think she’s just been saying that to get us off her back? The girl’s just come off a really bad breakup, there’s no way she’s fine.”

“It was last week.” Sherlock says, making a face, “And it wasn’t that bad.”

John raises an eyebrow and then mimics taking a drink from a bottle. Which could’ve only been an indication to last week’s tequila incident.

Sherlock rolls his eyes, looking back into his microscope before muttering, “ _She’s fine._ ”

John narrows his eyes, turning to watch Y/n for a moment. “Why don’t you two go out, like for lunch or something?” he says, turning back to Sherlock to gauge his reaction. John checks his watch and nods lightly at the time; it’s a good time for a walk.

Sherlock blanched, his eyes snapping up to meet John’s, “…What?” he swallows hard, “I told you once John, don’t inflict your ideas upon the world, you’ll upset the balance.”

John rolls his eyes, ignoring Sherlock before walking out to Y/n. John felt bad for her, though he tried not to, he couldn’t help but give her a pitying gaze sometimes. She and Scott were going so well, he had sworn that they were going to get married someday, as much as he knew Sherlock detested that idea.

She’s been cooped up a lot since that night last week. She’s taken some time off work, trying to clear her head, John supposed. She doesn’t say much to them either, and that was something John couldn’t ignore because she was always so energetic around them. She would be talking and laughing and annoying the hell out of Sherlock.

She may tell Sherlock she’s fine, hell she might even try to convince herself that she was. But John knew better. He could tell she was hurting bad. He even caught her crying earlier today when he went to check on her, she was looking at something in her phone. He knew it was about Scott; he didn’t have to ask. He got her to come upstairs to chat for a bit, but she ended up watching the tv.

“Hey Y/n,” John calls gently, going to stand next to Sherlock’s chair where she sat.

“Hmm?” she questions, pulling her eyes away from the television to look up at him. John could see that she was tired - with the dark circles that had gathered under her eyes - he knows she hadn’t been sleeping well. He probably would’ve been in her very spot if he had a forever long relationship end that way.

“Sherlock wanted to take you out to lunch,” Behind him, John heard Sherlock’s scoff of disagreement and he ignores it. Y/n blinks up at him, her e/c eyes wide and her mouth stuffed with popped corn, “ _Whut_?”

John hears the chair in the kitchen scrape against the floor and decided to act quickly so Sherlock wouldn’t have a chance to shut this down. “So it’s settled then! You two, lunch.”

The question of the morning rung out again as Sherlock loomed in the doorway, looking quite displeased with John’s antics. “What?”

John claps his hands together with a grin, looking between Sherlock and Y/n. “Yeah I know a great place, I’ll text you the address.” He says, moving to help a still confused Y/n out of Sherlock’s chair and lead her through the door. “Go put on something nice, Sherlock will be with you in a bit.”

“What?– John!”

He didn’t give her time to finish before he closed the door behind her. He turns to Sherlock, smile still on his face.

“This isn’t a good idea.” Sherlock protests, waving his hands wildly, “I don’t do lunch, John.”

“Trust me, this’ll be good.” John smiles nodding. He was so sure of this. He’s going to try to get Y/n over Scott. And he knows just how much Sherlock fancies her, even if the detective acted indifferent towards his rather obvious feelings for their female counterpart.

::

Y/n looks down at John’s old sweater and shorts before looking at her wardrobe. She didn’t even know what to wear…hell she didn’t even know what the heck John was playing at. But Y/n can’t deny that lunch sounded like a good idea, even though she isn’t really hungry, she appreciates John’s efforts to help her get over Scott.

Funnily enough, Scott never called, not that she was expecting him to, but it would have been nice if he showed that he at least cared about her mental state. It’s been a week and Y/n had done nothing but sulk around.

She shakes her head, looking through her clothes for something nice. It was a bit cold today, so she went with one of her thick long sleeved tees and a pair of dark blue jeans. She sighs, she didn’t even know if Sherlock was going…he was probably kicking up a fit upstairs.

Not long after, Y/n left her flat to find Sherlock waiting at the stairs for her. He looked less than pleased with the situation, the scowl on his face was a dead give away to how he felt about being dragged away from his experiment.

She felt bad, even after everything, after she told herself that she was okay and slowly moving on, she found herself leaning on Sherlock still. After that night last week, she had expected Sherlock to be gone when she woke up that morning. But he wasn’t, he stayed with her most of the day, holding her hair back when she spilled her regrets into the toilet bowl and dealing with her when she’d randomly break down.

But after that, Sherlock retreated into himself once again. And he was acting perfectly normal, being his cold sarcastic self again.

“So you’re actually going through with this?” Y/n asks, poking his arm when she was near enough. Sherlock sighs through his nose and rolled his eyes.

“Obviously.”

He moves away from the stairs and grabs his coat from the rack and puts it on. He opens the door and looks at her expectantly. Y/n smiles lightly and steps through the door, actually happy to breathe in the fresh air after being inside for so long.

“You know, we don’t actually have to go for lunch…we could go for a walk in the park or something.” Y/n suggests with a shrug, squinting her eyes at the bleak London sky. Sherlock steps next to her,  and the way he squinted his eyes at her, she knew he was actually contemplating the idea.

“I’m not on a case,” he mutters and shook his head. Y/n knows he doesn’t normally eat - which honestly is ridiculous, how does this man even function? - but she was actually hoping he’d take a shot at going for something to eat. He looks at the watch on his wrist, “Lunch sounds alright,”

Y/n smiles, pulling out her phone when it buzzed with a text from John. He texted the address of the place he wanted them to go to as promised. “Oh, Lovely, it’s right up the street.”

She turned and started walking and Sherlock soon fell into step with her, there was a silence between them, but it wasn’t an uncomfortable one. It was just there. In a moment where they just enjoyed each other’s company without having to speak to one another.

“How are you?” Sherlock asks, effectively breaking the silence that surrounded them. Y/n glances at him for a moment before looking at her hands. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not.”

Y/n steps falter, and she stares at him. “I’m fine,  _okay_?” she tucks her hair behind her ears and sighs. “I’m sorry,” she says, feeling bad when she realized she snapped. She shouldn’t have, especially when he was only trying to make sure she’s doing okay. He’s doing better than Scott in her opinion. Y/n rolls her eyes at herself, why does he have to keep coming up?

A faint smile tugs at the corners of Sherlock’s mouth and he looks straight ahead. He nods and waved his hand dismissively. “It’s fine,”

Y/n sighs and stuffed her hands into the pockets of her jeans. The walk continues in silence until they reach a small diner at the end of Baker Street. Sherlock opened the door and allowed her to pass in first. Y/n walked into the fairly crowded diner, inhaling the sweet smell of coffee and pastries and the different smells of food cooking in the back. She sat down at a table near the large glass window, Sherlock didn’t seem to mind as he took his coat off and laid it over the back of his chair and sits down.

Y/n picked up the menu and looks through the lunch selections. Her teeth worried at her bottom lip and her eyebrows furrowed as she tried to decide what she wanted.

“What would you be having?” a young waitress approached the table they sat at, notepad and pen in hand. Y/n let her eyes scan the menu again, “We’ll have two specials please,” Sherlock says and Y/n looks up at him, “and two glasses of water,”

The waitress smiles and nods, “Okay,” she says before leaving them. Y/n puts the menu down and tucks it against the wall. “So, pasta huh?”

“Yes,”

When the food was dropped at their table along with the water, Y/n immediately dug in. It looked delicious and it tasted just as much.

Sherlock followed, albeit slower. While they ate in silence, Y/n found herself thinking. Her thoughts drifting back to that night when she saw a side of Sherlock he’d never show to anyone. She took a sip of her water and looks out the window, well aware that Sherlock was watching her carefully.

“You know, I’ve been trying really hard lately…” Y/n says quietly, looking down at her glass to avoid looking at the detective. “Just to get up and move about has been hard for me.” She moves her fork around in her food uninterestedly.

Y/n had the feeling that he already knew all of this, but she felt better talking about it, and she knew Sherlock knew that as well. Y/n feels water spring to her tired eyes and she sighs and tries to blink them away. “It hurts to wake up every day knowing that he doesn’t even care enough to call,” she says, her throat felt tight with the force of holding back her tears.

Y/n uses the sleeve of her tee-shirt to wipe at the stubborn tears that made their way down her face. She didn’t want to be crying in public because she didn’t want draw attention to either of them or embarrass Sherlock in any way.

“I’m sorry,” she apologizes, sniffling a bit. She takes a sip of her water and tries to calm herself down. Sherlock was still looking at her, and she could see the worry in his eyes, the pity.

Deciding not to say anything about it –she resisted the strong urge to roll her eyes and call him out for it – Y/n went back to her food, even though it now tasted bland in her mouth. Her appetite had all but ran out the door, leaving her for force down her food. She hears Sherlock pick up his fork again and he continued eating as well.

When they were finished and ready to leave the diner, Sherlock paid the bill -even though Y/n protested - and they left. Y/n suggested going back home, but Sherlock was adamant about walking about. He admitted that he was, in fact, enjoying the fresh air and that he’d like to enjoy it for a moment longer, to which Y/n rolled her eyes to, but complied anyway.

They ended up walking to a small park, and Y/n admired the scenes around her: people were walking about, minding their own businesses, children were playing; it was calming. Surprisingly, the sun had peaked out from behind a grey cloud, sending its warm rays down to a very grateful Y/n. The walk wasn’t quiet however, Y/n had managed to get Sherlock to talk about what he was working on in the kitchen earlier and even though he was talking a bit too quickly for her to understand, Y/n was enjoying it.

Y/n must admit though, she did feel a lot better about letting Sherlock know that she hadn’t really been as fine as she kept insisting. She took that as another small step towards getting over him.

Y/n was having a great time, and she had just begun to notice that the angle Sherlock was at, the sun was making his dark hair look chocolate brown and she had to stop herself from raising a hand to run it through his hair. Y/n sticks her hand into the pocket of her jeans, and sighs. Sherlock has been there for her through thick and thin, despite his nature, he’s a good one and Y/n felt like kicking herself for not realizing that sooner.

Y/n shakes her head and looks away, but the motion caused her to see a couple just off their walk path. They were walking in the opposite direction, and Y/n suddenly couldn’t breathe.

_It was too early for this._

Y/n almost fell over, had not Sherlock reached out and steadied her. The way her stomach turned had her placing a hand over her mouth and swallowing hard to avoid gifting her lunch to the nearest trash bin. Y/n leaned forward, bracing her hands on her knees as her head spun and tears sprung to her eyes. She could faintly hear Sherlock instructing her to breathe and she tried her best to follow his instruction to do so. She took one breath in and let it out slowly,  still trying hard not to throw up.

When she stood up again, Sherlock moved and stood in front of her, effectively blocking her sight.

“Why?” was all she could muster before she felt Sherlock pull her to him. She clutches to his coat, trying desperately to hold herself together. “Y/n, calm down,” Sherlock says quietly, he pulls away from her and cups her cheeks with both hands, “ _Breathe_.” Y/n took a breath and allowed the blue of his eyes to calm her. He leans forward and presses a kiss to her forehead, much like he did that night and Y/n found herself leaning into him, completely lost in the moment.

“Hey… Sherlock, right?”

Y/n feels Sherlock tense and pull away from her, he turns around, facing the person who spoke, keeping Y/n behind him.

“You’re a friend of Y/n’s.”

At the mention of her name, Y/n couldn’t help herself, she looks around Sherlock. Scott stood there, looking the same as he did last week, his hair the same dirty blond, his eyes the same grey. Everything about him was the same, except that there was a red-haired girl clinging to his arm. Y/n immediately felt the need to tackle her and knock her lights out, but she spots Sherlock’s hand behind his back, his fingers wiggling at her. Y/n takes the indication and slips her hand into his own.

“Y/n…” Scott seemed surprised to see her, his eyes were wide and his mouth was slightly open as he watched her. “Uh… Hi…” he says awkwardly.

Y/n ignores him and looks up at Sherlock, “Can we go home now, please?” her voice cracked and she felt a tear run down her cheek. “Please?”

Sherlock glances at her for a moment, and Y/n sees anger flare up in his eyes. He turns to look at Scott, “You have no right talking to her.” he says coldly. Y/n feels his grip on her hand tightens.

The redhead looks between Sherlock and Scott and finally at Y/n. She smiles shyly, “You’re Y/n, Scott’s best friend? I’ve heard a lot about you, I’m Vicki,” she stretches out a hand for Y/n to shake but Y/n just watched her hand.

_Scott’s best friend._

_The way she spoke… Scott never told…_

“ _You son of a bitch_.” Y/n hissed, her sadness immediately evaporated, only to be replaced by anger. “You never told her I was your girlfriend did you?”

Vicki looked shocked, her brown eyes wide as she looked up at Scott, “What?”

“Of course he didn’t, not when he needed an excuse as to why he was spending so much time with another woman.” Sherlock says in distaste, “You’re not the type of man to rush into things though, Scott. Seems like you didn’t waste any time in taking the next step,” Sherlock nods to Vicki’s left hand where a ring sat on her fourth finger.

_Oh…_

Y/n squeezes Sherlock’s hand tightly and clenches her free hand at her side.

“Y/n…” Scott begins, looking apologetic.

“You cheated on her with me?” Vicki says incredulously, pulling her arm away from Scott’s. “You told me she was your best friend… and you were…” Vicki trails off and she looks at Y/n, “I am  _so sorry_ … I didn’t know I swear.”

Y/n didn’t have a reason not to believe her, she looked innocent enough. And as far as Y/n could tell, she really didn’t know anything.

“I am so sorry,” Vicki says again, backing away from the three of them. “Vic, C'mon,” Scott says as she turned and walked away from them. She stops though, not to say anything, and they watched as she pulled the engagement ring off her finger and drops it, it hits the ground with a small cling and bounces.

“ _Vicki_!” Scott calls, but she kept walking, throwing up her middle finger to him.

Y/n, a little shocked by what just happened, looks up at Sherlock but he was already looking at her, a smirk on his lips. She did, however, find her reaction strange, just walking away like that and calling off the engagement, most girls would still be clinging to him.

“ _What did you do?_ ” she mouths and he winks with a small smile.

Scott turns back to face them, “Thanks a lot for that.” he says to Y/n, his face red with anger. “Why do you always ruin everything, hmm? why do you always have to sweep in and make my life a living hell?”

“You did that all on your own, I believe.” Sherlock says calmly, “A man that makes a woman cry is no man at all.”

Scott scoffs, shaking his head, “Honestly.” he laughs, “You can’t be serious.” He looks up at the sky for a moment and shook his head again. “You…  _wow_ … look, man, you’re falling too hard too fast right now. That woman is a virus, she’ll suck everything from you. She’s _nothing._  And you’ll eventually get tired of her.”

Y/n had to once again blink back tears, hearing those words coming from him.  _So that’s how he felt_ , Y/n thought. Scott’s behavior alone was surprising, she had watched a boy grow into one of the kindest and sweetest men she knew. A man she thought she knew. Now she sees his true colors. When you know someone for too long, you tend to become blind to some things about them. You subconsciously push them away, out of sight, out of mind.

Y/n didn’t even feel Sherlock’s hand slip from her own. All she saw was him moving towards Scott and the swing of his right hand. Then Scott was holding his bleeding nose, sputtering curses at Sherlock. “You should speak for yourself.” Sherlock seethes before he takes Y/n’s hand and pulled her along.

“What the hell just happened?” Y/n asked as she tried to keep up with the detective’s long strides. “Sherlock..”

Sherlock stayed quiet until the got a good distance away from the park, and Y/n noticed that he hadn’t let go of her hand. “Mind telling me what happened just now?” Y/n asked when he finally slowed his pace. She mumbled a thanks and waited for his explanation.

“Vicki is a friend of Mycroft’s. I asked her to keep an eye on him for me.” he says “I had no way intended or foreseen Scott calling it off with you,” he adds quickly, he must have seen the look that crossed Y/n’s face. She sighs and shrugs, Scott breaking up with her was a long time coming, so even if Vicki hadn’t been there, it would have ended the same way.

“I had known he was cheating on you, the signs were there and I was waiting for you to notice them,”

“You should’ve said something,” Y/n sighs, realizing that if he had said something to her, they could have avoided all of this mess. Y/n shakes her head and looks up at him, Scott’s words were fresh in her mind. It’s not that they bothered her, the things he said about her, it wasn’t that. It’s what he said about Sherlock falling  _too fast and too hard_ , she knew what he meant… it’s just… “Sherlock?”

“If what you’re going to ask pertains to what Scott said at the park, don’t bother. You won’t get an answer from me.”

Their walk from then back to Baker street was quiet. Y/n was too busy trying to piece things together in her head and the most that did was give her a headache. When they got the flat, John was sitting in the living room, looking like a proud parent, “So? How was it?” he asks and Sherlock muttered something under his breath that Y/n couldn’t hear and went to the kitchen to finish off what he was doing.

John was looking at Y/n expectantly, “Well?”

“Uh… it’s a long story,”


	10. Fix Me | Three - End |

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Y/n always seem to be crying about something huh?

Sherlock was still moving around the kitchen at two in the morning, cleaning up his mess and putting things back in the right order. John had long gone to bed and Y/n was back to sitting in his chair, watching the telly. But from the lack of her chuckles or soft mumbles to herself, Sherlock assumed that she had fallen asleep.

Just as he assumed, he found her curled up in his chair:her feet tucked under her, her head leaning on her arm; the telly a soft lull in the background. She was back to wearing a pair of shorts and a John's old sweater. Sherlock watched her for a moment, thinking about the things that Scott said about her yesterday. One thing was for sure though: Scott was wrong about her, and he was an idiot. He's an idiot because he gave up something so beautiful, he just let her slip right through his fingers.

Sherlock will never tire of her, he would never get tired of seeing her smile, hearing her laugh, watching the way she moved. Hearing her say his name.

Sherlock smiles fondly as she shifted in her sleep and he moved towards her. He contemplated on if he should wake her so that she could go sleep in her bed, which would be way more comfortable than his chair, or if he should just move her. Sherlock thought for a moment, before choosing the latter option. It was a little difficult - because of the position she fell asleep in - to pick her up, but Sherlock managed. He carried her to his bedroom, and laid her on the bed, when he was about to pull away, her eyes fluttered open. Looking up at him in a mixture of confusion and amusement.

"You know, you should take a girl out before you take her to your bedroom." she says with a smile and Sherlock feels heat climbing up his neck and ears as he racked his mind for an answer.

"You fell asleep.." He says quietly, and he realised just how close he was to her: he had barely moved his arms from around her, and if he shifted his head just a little, he's sure he could kiss her. Sherlock clears his throat and pulls away from her in favour of standing up straight. "I know the chair isn't comfortable... I've slept there once.." Sherlock says and he puts his hands into the pockets of his dressing gown and looked at anything but Y/n.

"You're not going to stand there all night are you?" Y/n asks, and she shifted into a sitting position, looking at him with soft e/c eyes. Ones Sherlock couldn't help but get lost in when he looked back at her. He did plan on going to bed and getting some rest anyways... but that was before he put Y/n in it. Sherlock watched as she pulled her knees to her chest and her demeanor shifted, "I... I don't want to sleep alone... " she says, and she anxiously nibbled on her thumbnail.

Of course, everything that happened yesterday evening haven't left her mind. Sherlock hadn't expected her to just drop it and forget it never happened. He studies her for a moment, and before any awkward tension had the chance to build and stop him from actually going through with this, he walks around to the other side of the bed. Y/n moved and got under the thick covers and Sherlock hesitates for a moment, he had come to terms with his feelings a long time ago, and last week was hard enough when he had to watch her fall apart. Now here he was, yet again, going to sleep in the same bed with her, something completely innocent ,that against his better judgement can quickly turn.

"You okay?" Y/n's quiet voice reached his ears, pulling him from his thoughts. He gives her a stiff nod before copying her actions, he climbed into bed and under the covers. He stares at the ceiling, feeling the heat of her skin touching his from where she was just inches from him. He could feel her eyes on him, and Sherlock sighs.

"You're not a virus," Sherlock says, keeping his eyes on the ceiling. Quite aware of how silly that sounded to his ears, Sherlock turns his head to watch her, "What that idiot said yesterday... it isn't true. You're not a virus."

She was watching him, laying on her side, a smile spreads on her lips at the same time as her eyes filled up with tears. "Thanks," she says, her voice was strained, as though she was trying desperately not to break down, and Sherlock could see that that is exactly what she was doing. He turns on his side to face her, and the tears she was holding in spilled over, and Sherlock feels his chest tighten.

_Damn_.

He shifts closer to her when a sob broke past her lips. Sherlock wraps his arm around her and pulls her to him, he held her tighter as her body shook against his and he closes his eyes when she sobbed again. "It's alright.. " was the only thing Sherlock could say to her and he felt one of her small hands balling into a fist at his back. He runs his hand through her hair, and felt her shake her head against his neck, "It's not... it's not okay. He hates me, Sherlock." Sherlock tightens around her, "He was my best friend and he hates me."

"Y/n... "

Y/n pulls away from him and sits up, her face pink and blotchy, her eyes still filled with tears and red rimmed. "He's right. I'm  _nothing_  and I deserve just as much. I'm a virus Sherlock. And I don't deserve you."

Sherlock blinks and sits up too, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion, and before he could ask, she laughs sadly. "I know, Sherlock." she sniffs, " _I know how you feel._ "

Sherlock watches as her tears continued to flow down her red cheeks. "I don't deserve you, because I'm an idiot." she raises a hand to wipe furiously at her cheeks, "I.. " she sighs and blinks up at the ceiling, more tears followed the action. "I don't know anymore... I feel like I'm lost.. just..here trying to hold on and I'm slipping." she hiccupped, sniffling loudly. Sherlock sighs and move towards her again and pulls her to him. They ended up sitting in the center of the bed, Sherlock holding her as she cried.

"Y/n... " Sherlock pulls away from her when it seemed as though she calmed down enough that he could speak to her. "Y/n look at me,"

" _No_." she mutters, sounding much like a defient child, and Sherlock chuckles lightly as she pressed her cheek against his collar. Sherlock gently pushes her back by her shoulders, studying her face, and he realised that she was staring at his nose to avoid looking into his eyes. He dips his head a bit to catch her gaze, "You aren't nothing." he says firmly, and even though he felt uncomfortable - because God knows feelings and the act of expessing them was hard for him - he was willing to breach that for her. "Do not  _ever_  think that."

Y/n finally looks at him, and Sherlock brushes his thumbs under her eyes to catch the tears that fell. "You're not an idiot either, it may seem like you are with the things that come out of your mouth at times, it makes me question myself sometimes. But I don't think I would've fallen for an idiot." Saying it out loud had Sherlock's heart pounding in his ears, she already knew, so there was no point in hiding it anymore. But Sherlock regretted it as she said nothing and stared at him, crestfallen, Sherlock pulls his hands away from her, but she caught one. Sherlock kept his eyes on their hands and Y/n wrapped her smaller hand around his much larger one. "No, don't do that. Sherlock.. don't think that I don't feel the same way... I do, believe me."

Sherlock's looks up at her, and he could feel his uncertainty swarming them. He closes his eyes when he felt her other hand brush his cheek and settle on his neck and the next thing he felt were her lips on his own. When the surprise of her action left him, Sherlock kissed back with everything he had. He allowed his hand to lose itself in the tresses of her thick hair as he pulled his other hand from hers and wraps his arm around her waist to pull her as closely as possible. When the kiss broke, they were both panting, and Y/n rested her forehead on his. "I need time."

Sherlock understood of course, knowing that she couldn't just jump from a the end of a four year relationship and at the end of a week find herself in a new one.

She leaned back, with a sad smile, "I'll feel like I'm using you as a distraction... that won't be fair. Not to you."

Sherlock couldn't help but focus on her mouth as she spoke, and he fought the urge to kiss her again just to stop her from talking, when she smiled his eyes found hers again. "I'll give you time... if that's what you need." Sherlock says softly and her smile widens, "Thank you," Sherlock raises a hand and brushes her cheek.

"Can we just sleep now? My head hurts," Y/n asks, yawning. Sherlock chuckles and they righted themselves, with Sherlock laying on his back and Y/n's cheek pressed against his chest, they were quick to find sleep.

::

"Just keep him busy...seriously John, I'm depending on you to keep him out of the flat," Y/n whispers to John who was listening intently. Sherlock was playing his violin, and John was helping Y/n make them all tea when she told him it was time to execute her brilliant plan. John nodded with a determined look in his blue eyes, "Of course, Y/n, don't worry." John gives her a thumbs up before he left her in the kitchen.

It's been two months, and as Sherlock promised, he gave Y/n time, enough time to get over Scott and coming to terms with her feelings for him. Sherlock never pushed her, he gave her the space she needed and she'd be forever grateful for that. Now that Y/n was completely over Scott... well,  _not completely_ , as sometimes she'd think about him and feel sad, but she'd always scold herself for it, knowing that Sherlock was patiently waiting. She couldn't afford to think about Scott. Not when she was finally ready to take the step she promised Sherlock.

So she and John came up with a plan. John - who was the one to freak out when he found Y/n and Sherlock in the same bed the morning after he sent them out - was unsurpised to hear that Y/n needed help to do something for Sherlock. She just needed to keep Sherlock's mind occupied for a couple of hours.

Y/n hears the click of the kettle as the water finished boiling and was snapped from her thoughts, now aware that Sherlock had also stopped playing. She got the mugs from the cupboard, but was startled by Sherlock when he spoke behind her.

"Y/n-"

The girl had squeaked and almost dropped her mug, she takes a breath and turns around. " _Sherlock_." he was watching her with a blank look, but amusement shone clear in his eyes.

"John and I are going to the Yard, we shouldn't be long. Depending on whatever rubbish Lestrade has to tell us." he rolls his eyes and Y/n chuckles, "Okay, I'll see you boys later then." she says.

She sees Sherlock hesitate at the doorway for a moment, he walks over to her and leans down to press a kiss to her cheek. "I'll see you,"

When the boys left, Y/n watched them from the window until they got a cab before hurrying downstairs to her flat. She goes to her fridge and takes out and bagged everything she'd need and carries them back upstairs. She was glad she had convinced Sherlock to put all his chemistry things in a box and have them tucked neatly in a corner, Y/n now had enough room to do what she has to and she drops the bags on the table with a smile.

_Time to get to work._

Half an hour later, the sun was beginning to set, and Y/n was cleaning some broccoli when her phone buzzed. Wiping her hands on the kitchen towel she had thrown over her shoulder, she picked up to see a text from John.

**John** :  _Everything going well?_

**Y/n** : _Just peachy, I'm almost done. :)_

Placing her phone down, Y/n went back to cooking. She wanted this to be perfect, so she decided to cook dinner and let Sherlock know that she was ready. She moved happily around the kitchen, and a couple minutes later, the chicken Alfredo was done. Y/n took her time to clean up and put everything back to it's natural order before going to the bathroom to clean herself up.

Even though she knew that they'd be dining in tonight, Y/n had decided to doll up a bit. She wore a new pair of blue jeans she bought just a few days ago, and the flow-y white top that her sister gifted her last time she saw her. She never had a good reason to wear it until now. She let her damp hair fall over her shoulders nicely, she didn't bother with any make-up, she would like to go to bed after without having to was make-up off her face, thank you very much.

When she was out, she text John to tell him that it was safe to come back to the flat. And while she waited for them, she put the food into plates and pulled two wine glasses from the cupboard. When everything was set up according to plan, Y/n took a breath, suddenly feeling her nerves grind away at her. She had no reason to be nervous of course; Sherlock should be totally okay with this.

"Okay... now just to –" Y/n stops as she hear the door downstairs open and close, and the unmistakable voices of John and Sherlock traveling up to her. "I think you know me well enough to know that hiding something from me is impossible." Sherlock says, he was clearly aggregated.

"I have no idea what you're talking about." John says, and Y/n could just see him folding his arms across his chest.

Y/n chuckles and the bag she left sitting inside the fridge, she took it out, and pulled the now cold bottle of wine out of it before resting it on the table. The door to the flat opened and a grumbling Sherlock came in with John following right after.

Sherlock stopped short upon seeing her, she stood off the side of the table, hands clasped in front of her and a shy smile on her face.

"Hi," she greets, "You fancy a date?" 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for bothering to read this nonsence ❤


End file.
